


Life With the Dull Bits Cut Out

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets a summer job. And Derek just has to crash it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life With the Dull Bits Cut Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comedicdrama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comedicdrama/gifts).



> There is so much fluff here. I can't even call it schmoop. It's like complete marshmallow. This is all comedicdrama's fault. Totally. I should just accept that fluff is my destiny.

His dad looked entirely too pleased with himself when he came home. He wasn’t even too late, such a minor miracle with the whole desperately short-staffed thing at the station and Stiles kinda fell off the sofa in shock. His dad stared despairingly at him while Stiles tried to catch the open bag of chips and not knock his head on the coffee table or anything.

“Stiles, you remember your mom’s friend, Martie?” His dad avoided Stiles’s eyes, unbuckling his gun and kicking off his shoes and loosening his top button. “I ran into her today.”

“Think so.” Sometimes his mom’s friends ran together in his head, women who provided casseroles and who he ran into in the grocery store now and again. “With the dogs?”

“Cats. Lots of cats.” His dad gave a shudder before moving swiftly on. “She was asking how you were enjoying your holidays.”

“I’m enjoying them very much. What with me and my sofa and my large, substantial pile of DVDs.” Stiles gestured around the living room, taking in the nest he’d basically built for himself. “I also have serious gaming plans.” And he did. He also had a plan to avoid anything supernatural or werewolfy. Staying in was definitely the best way of doing that. Staying far away from the woods, mostly burnt down houses, creepy warehouses… Staycations were also better for the environment. He was going green. It didn’t cost him anything in gas, either.

“Martie offered to give you a job.” His dad wasn’t giving anything else away but he knew exactly how often Stiles complained bitterly about the fact he had no cash on hand.

Stiles could afford to go to – safe – places if he had gas money. “How much does it pay?”

“Ah ha, son. I have not taught you well. You’re supposed to ask what it is first.” And a hint of triumph crept into his dad’s expression. “She needs someone to help out with the summer daycare thing she has going on.”

“Kids? I can do kids.” Stiles shrugged. He’d probably end up having more fun than they did, with the potential to regress to kindergarten or something.

“Stiles, she runs a theater camp for under-12s. There will be glitter and drama queens.” His dad’s mouth was now twitching suspiciously.

Stiles reckoned that now was probably not the best time to mention the amount of time he spent hanging around with drag queens. If he could handle that much satin and fake hair, he could manage tweens on a rampage no bother. “She does know I know nothing about drama, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that…” His dad’s voice was muffled as he started walking away. Then his shoulders started shaking. Stiles would get him with the perfect comeback. Just watch him.

 

Martie wasn’t stupid. She didn’t expect Stiles to suddenly have (okay, adorable) seven year olds suddenly performing Shakespeare. She had actual professionals who knew what they were doing, that ran the actual whole drama class side of things. Stiles was there to be muscle (a most amusing thought), making sure no one hurt themselves, didn’t hurt each other, that they had juice and snacks and toilet breaks. He had to wipe noses and be all stern when two boys were kicking each other. He also gave hugs. And got covered in glitter when they were painting each other up to be fairies.

His dad laughed at him when Stiles dropped into the seat opposite him in his office. Stiles quite deliberately at his burger at his dad. Food revenge was the best kind of revenge, especially when his dad had to pick away at his salad.

“How was your day?” His dad pouted when Stiles slapped his hand away from the fries keeping warm in the takeout bag. 

“It was fun.” And it was. Stiles wasn’t even being sarcastic. “I get to run around and pretend to be trees and small animals and get painted with glitter and I get paid for it.” He bit his lips on ‘and no one is trying to kill me’. It was best his dad continued to stay out of the loop on that one. “There were more boys than when I remember doing it with Mom.”

His dad tapped his knuckles on the desk and stuffed his mouth full of salad.

 

Day two was not fun. It started with a full on tantrum from one of the girls who kept crying and screaming and kicking her legs against the carpet no matter how much Stiles tried to distract her. Then he ended up bearing the brunt of another couple of tiny fists and feet as he broke up a more serious fight between the boys that, in his head, Stiles had named Scott and Jackson. Then there was the bathroom incident which Stiles was desperately trying to wipe from his memory. Even while he was wiping up the bathroom.

It was a relief to take his lunch and vanish into the room set aside for staff only. Martie had just pointed him at it as she’d headed off to deal with a couple of twelve year olds with a mascara crisis. Give mascara to any of his kids and they’d have poked out his eye with it today. The angelic choirs from yesterday had definitely decided to reveal their true colors.

Stiles pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa over his face and pretended he was still in his bed. He’d had to get up early – like school early – for this. He grabbed for the blanket as it was pulled away from his face.

And that was when everything utterly went to shit.

Derek was barely holding onto the _arm that had basically been sliced in two_. The blood was making the floor slick and red and Stiles could do nothing for a moment other than stare. Derek swayed on his feet, slapping his hand back on top of the gaping wound.

“What…?” Stiles scrambled to his feet before guiding Derek to the sofa. “Okay. You sit here and- Did anyone see you?”

Derek jerked his chin in the direction of the open window. His jawline was peppered with bruises under the stubble, one of which shrunk and vanished as Stiles watched. “Alphas. An alpha. Caught me by surprise.”

“Right. Fine.” Stiles’s back hit the sink. He remembered that the first aid kit was stashed under it. Although triangular bandages and Disney Princess band-aids were probably not going to do much. “You’re healing but slower and you needed a place to hang out which was safe so you came to… my summer job?” Stiles knew it was either keep talking or throwing up so he stuck with the constant stream of words, as he turned back to Derek with the green box. Derek was slumped back on the sofa, pale and shivering, the hollows under his eyes stark. “My summer job. Which has kids hanging about outside. Did they see you? And when did the Alpha pack get back into town? I thought we dealt with them last year.”

“Window.” Derek ground out the word, nodding towards the open window, high up on the wall. There was a smear of blood on the white sill. Stiles nodded before digging out a long white bandage to wrap around Derek’s arm. The bleeding seemed to be more sluggish now but Stiles wasn’t taking any risks as he bound up Derek’s arm tightly. It wasn’t the best job but he reckoned that winding the white strip around and around until it stopped showing any red. Derek seemed to be breathing easier too, less ragged, and his cheeks were acquiring some color.

“Okay. So that looks better. Why are you here again?” Stiles glared. He’d been practicing his glares in the mirror. Derek was obviously immune.

Maybe Stiles had gone a little cross-eyed. He opened his mouth to ask again when the door started to open. Without thinking, Stiles slung himself across Derek’s lap, hiding the bandage and the mess of Derek’s shirt with his body. It was only after Derek’s uninjured hand slid up under his t-shirt to hide the blood and pressed against the bare skin of his back that Stiles recognized just what this looked like.

“He-ey. Martie.” Stiles froze. At least he wasn’t pressing against Derek in any…intimate ways. It still looked a whole lot like what it shouldn’t look like.

“Stiles.” Martie looked entirely too impressed, her chin trembling as she obviously tried to stop herself laughing. “You about ready to head back to work?”

“Yeah. Sure. I just need to-“ Stiles reckoned that the next words out of his mouth shouldn’t be ‘to clean up’. 

“Sure. Couple of minutes, right?” Stiles was almost sure he was home and free. “Your boyfriend should probably come help too, if he’s so desperate to crawl through a window to come see you.”

“Boyfriend? He’s not…” Stiles trailed off as the door shut behind Martie.

Derek was sitting very very still under him. Stiles scrambled backwards and stumbled to his feet. “So. Um.” Stiles felt all the fight go out of him. His shoulders drooped and he lost the will to do anything other than stare piteously at Derek.

Derek pushed himself up and pulled off his shirt. “You got a shirt I can borrow?”

“Sure. What?” Stiles knew his mouth was hanging open. 

Derek went over to the sink, turned on the water and used the t-shirt to start wiping the blood off his hands. He stretched up to wipe his hand print off the window sill before closing the window. Stiles, on the other hand, watched the play of Derek’s muscles, watched them flex and bunch and do a whole kind of dance as he moved about. Stiles may have whimpered. A little. In a totally manly way.

“They might follow me here. I should stay and make sure they don’t cause trouble.” Derek was now using the disintegrating, rough paper towels to dry off. He turned to look at Stiles who had to forcibly drag his eyes up – up, dammit – to Derek’s face.

“These children are worse than werewolves. Seriously.” Stiles wondered how much he should explain but Derek was being very distracting. By standing there. Stiles gave in, searching around for one of the volunteer t-shirts. “Martie should really think about the sort of people she’s letting help out.”

Derek sneered as he pulled on the shirt.

 

Stiles’s group of hellions were fairly subdued as he wandered along to the lunchroom, Derek at his back. It felt like he’d called in extra muscle or something. The kids eyed Derek almost as warily as he eyed them, before one of the kids held out a cookie in her damp hand. “Stiles?”

“I’m good, Lizzie. Why don’t you see if Jessica wants some?” Stiles settled down cross legged on the floor next to their low table. Derek did the same, only he made it look elegant and kinda sexy and if Stiles was thinking it was sexy… He was so screwed. “This is my friend, Derek. He’s going to help out this afternoon.”

“Are we going to get the glitter out again?” There was an entirely too hopeful note in Elsa’s voice. 

Beside him, Derek winced.

 

Whatever had been possessing the kids that morning melted away with Derek’s presence. One of the boys kept sneaking looks at Derek and then adjusting himself to stand like him, hands hooked in the top of his pockets. Luckily the color had returned to Derek’s face and he was moving his arm a little easier.

Stiles kept an eye on him and on the kids and on the really enthusiastic ‘Call me Ambrosia’ teacher who was taking the kids through some stretches. Baby yoga, only, not, as these kids weren’t babies. She even had them try some of the poses that seemed to be part of actual yoga. Ambrosia twisted her body around, Stiles and the kids mimicked her like bad stick figures and Derek… Derek made it look like this was something he did all the time. There was a quiet ease as he moved through one of the shapes to another, no doubt helped by his whole werewolf strength and super powers. But Scott, for all his jumping and running and flipping around, couldn’t make a stance with one arm in the air and the other pointing to the ground look natural and – fuck – _hot_.

After they’d worked all the kinks out of their bodies, Ambrosia divided the kids up and sent a pile of them with Stiles (and Derek) to the costume boxes to find suitable costumes for fairies. Which mainly seemed to mean finding sparkly things with tutus and wings. Stiles helped small girl after small girl adjust wings while Derek seemed to be getting stuck with tutu adjustment. Finally, all of their group was finished and they rushed back to Ambrosia who just sent another group of terrors their way.

Stiles looked up from helping one of the boys – either Harry or Henry – into a waistcoat that was possibly more suited to piracy but had lots of buttons on it which small hands couldn’t quite manage just yet, to see one of Stiles’s screamers regarding Derek with a cagey expression that exactly duplicated the suspicious look on Derek’s face. Then the kid reached out and poked Derek’s cheek. Derek didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t shove the kid away in a violent or bloodthirsty manner. Instead he let the kid pet his cheek and stick her fingers into the side of his mouth. Then the kid turned and ran back to join the main group.

It turned out that Stiles and Derek needed costumes as well, going by the way Derek threw an oversized tutu in Stiles’s direction when he caught Stiles staring at him. Derek started to frown before he caught himself, _actually smiled_ and helped tie a scarf around the middle of another child. Stiles stuck out his tongue before helping the other kids sort themselves out. Then he got into the tutu. He dangled a pair of wings at Derek, marveling at his boldness. The feathers were mostly black but they had sparkly edges.

Derek rolled his eyes so hard they looked like they might fall out of his face. “Hurry up,” he then said, as he turned around and stuck his arms out. “I used to do this with my sister. Before…”

Stiles stayed silent as he strapped on Derek’s wings, easing the arms over his bandage. “How’s your arm?” Deflection. Changing the subject.

“Healing.” Derek turned around to Stiles, scowling again. “How do I look, darling?”

“Fantastic, sweetpea.” Sarcasm. Stiles could cope with that a whole lot better than sharing Derek or smiling Derek or even yoga Derek. They joined the back of the group of kids and learned a lot of very intense things about how fairies moved.

 

Derek was wrestling some of the tutus back into their chest when the Sheriff wandered into the room. “Hale,” he said, coolly. At least his dad kept his hand off his gun, for all that he was in full uniform. Derek nodded stiffly.

“Hey, Dad.” At least he wasn’t sitting on Derek this time, Stiles supposed. He closed the lid on the box of wings. “What you want?”

“I thought we could grab dinner somewhere before I have to get back to the station.” His dad’s eyes didn’t move from Derek. “You could bring your ‘boyfriend’ along too.”

So much for his dad not being in the loop. 

“I would but I’ve got plans,” Derek said, very carefully. “See you tomorrow, Stiles.”

His dad gave him significant eyebrows as Derek walked out but Stiles just gave them back. He was a wall, a brick one, solid. He had nothing to admit to or to explain. “We’re friends.”

“Uh huh. So, let us discuss the possibility of pizza?” His dad held the door open for them.

 

If day one was the best thing ever and day two had involved blood (literal and metaphoric), Stiles wasn’t quite ready for day three to be the day he was in charge of the six and seven year olds he’d been with for the past two days.

“Ambrosia’s daughter was in an accident. She’s fine but Ambrosia’ll be late. Just- Can you keep them occupied?” Martie waved as she headed in to the older kids. Stiles wondered about her mental state. Stiles really wasn’t that experienced, or old, or responsible and he couldn’t really say no. He looked around the group and wondered how to start.

Derek slid into the back of the room.

Stiles took a moment to boggle at that before he had a brilliant idea. A cunning plan, so to speak. “You know how to do that yoga stuff. I almost said Yoda stuff, but that’s more my kind of thing.”

“I know how to do that yoga stuff,” Derek mumbled. “I did some personal training.” Derek was wearing his volunteer t-shirt and he had – yup. He’d shaved. Stiles took a moment to appreciate that, storing the image in the back of his brain. For later.

“Can you-?” Stiles looked around a little frantically as the noise level in the room suddenly ratcheted. “Then I can tell them a story and then hopefully Ambrosia will be here and-“ Stiles tailed off as Derek carefully laid a hand on his shoulder, threat implicit.

“You are going to owe me a favor, Stilinski.” Derek’s scowl deepened and he leaned in close. He smelled good. Stiles probably shouldn’t be thinking that. Derek seemed to soften as he leaned close, the scowl starting to turn – just a little bit – upside down.

“The kind of favor you may or may not ever call in?” It was a weak quip, but it had to be made.

“I’ll be calling in this favor.” Derek knelt and unfastened his boots as Stiles got the kids to take off their shoes and line them up neatly against the wall. Then he smiled at the group of assembled kids who stared at him in fascination. “Okay. We’re going to do something that comes all the way from China. It’s called Tai Chi.” Derek talked the group through a few moves, making them stand up straight and relax their knees. The kids were enraptured, in complete silence. It was more than even Ambrosia could normally manage.

Stiles tried his best to follow along but he kept getting distracted by the way Derek’s arms moved. He was also kinda distracted by the amount of words spilling from Derek’s mouth. It was more than Stiles had heard him speak in, like, ever. He liked Derek’s voice. Who was he kidding? He basically liked everything about Derek, even the stuff that he should be scared of. It was making him have to reassess his entire world view.

His subconscious was already there judging by the alternate ending to the whole arm bandage/lap sitting incident it had chosen to suggest while Stiles had been half asleep and half hard this morning. The one that had ended up with him getting off to the idea of giving a blow job to Derek. Which he was desperately trying not to remember as Derek enchanted the kids. His subconscious had been there for a while (years) thinking back on all the stubbly, muscled, dark-haired guys who populated Stiles Alone Time.

Stiles was able to keep the kids in the kind of trance Derek had put them in as he gathered them around him and started telling them stories from one of the books Ambrosia had left at the front of the room. Derek snorted softly as Stiles added a bit of what he liked to think was the Stilinski flair. The peace and quiet was somewhat interrupted by a kid needing the bathroom, but Derek took her, holding her hand and opening the door and basically being the most adorable thing ever. If Stiles wasn’t a big, strong masculine guy, he’d be making noises about his ovaries melting.

Ambrosia brushed into the room just before the kids were ready for morning snacks (Stiles thought he’d seen brownies and his body was ready) and raised her eyebrows. There was nothing eyebrow raising going on. Stiles was doing a very passable Scottish accent while Derek sprawled at the back of the group and mocked him with his face.

Stiles finished the story and clapped his hands. “Snack time.”

 

Stiles collapsed on the pile of cushions as Ambrosia took the gaggle along to the lunch room for their juice. It wasn’t like he’d done a lot – read some stories, ogled Derek – but the fact he was no longer responsible for the small kids. 

Derek sat down next to him. “I wasn’t going to come in. I was going to sit outside-“

“Like a creeper,” Stiles had to interject.

“In the car. And watch.” Derek huffed out a breath and Stiles rolled to look at him. “I heard Martie say about Ambrosia and all I want to do was make sure you were okay. Not just from-“ Derek made a claw gesture. “What’s that, Stiles?”

“Feelings.” Stiles kept his voice as dry as he could. Wasn’t hard, with his tongue trying to stick to the roof of his mouth with nerves. “I know you don’t like to have them but. That’s what they are. Friendship.”

Derek swiped at him with an open palm. “I think I know we’re friends.”

“We could have been allies. Or frenemies. We were that for a while.” Stiles settled his shoulders into the cushions. He could hear the kids in the snack room and the low rumble of traffic outside. In here, he was mainly aware of Derek’s breathing though. “I told my dad we were friends. I don’t lie to my dad.”

“Except for all the times you lie to your dad,” Derek replied, rolling closer. Stiles could feel the heat coming off him. “I think… I think we are more than friends.”

“People who save each other’s lives? Don’t know that there’s a word for that.” Stiles could also feel his ability to think shrinking just from Derek’s nearness. It was like Derek was enchanting him just the same as he’d done the kids.

Derek kissed him, a soft brush of lips. Derek’s lips were dry, warm. Gentle. Stiles kept his eyes open and watched Derek’s eyes. He noticed when they flicked back down to Stiles’s mouth, which he was just moistening with his tongue, just in case. Derek pressed forward again, his kiss a little more determined, with intent and promises. It made Stiles give up thinking all together and just hold on. This was…awesome. He was being kissed by Derek Hale which meant that he got to touch and feel and, fuck, enjoy Derek. He needed to do it now before Derek realized it was all a horrible mistake and went away and never came back.

When Derek didn’t stop, when Derek’s hand closed over Stiles’s hip and held him close, Stiles’s brain started to accept the fact that maybe Derek wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“The kids are coming back,” Derek said, when he finally rolled away. “Face painting time.”

“And singing. There was going to be singing.” Stiles pinched himself before sitting up. “You could-“

“I want to stay. Keep you safe.” Derek shrugged, got to his feet. “Then we should go get dinner.”

“Like a date? I could just blow you in the costume cupboard.” Stiles slapped his hand over his mouth as he realized what he’d said.

Derek looked torn for a moment before he nodded decisively. “Let’s try food first.” 

Stiles kept the costume cupboard in mind for later. He _did_ owe Derek a favor.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr as [akadougal](http://akadougal.tumblr.com) and also on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/akadougal).


End file.
